“You remember those?” Zach’s chest swelled.
“Of course. Doing those projects was always a highlight for me.”
“You were gone a lot.” He tried to make it less accusatory but failed.
“I’m sorry for that. Like I told you before, I’m trying to do better. To stick around more, say what I mean. To just be more present in your lives overall.” His dad wiped his hands on a towel.
“Dani and Ollie say you’re doing that.”
“Anyway, what have we got here?” His dad jutted his chin toward the flour piles.
“Confirming a suspicion. These two are self-rising flour.” He pointed at the one from his container and the one from the bag, the known commodity.
“And why does that matter?”
“It means that Ava wasn’t the one who screwed up. I was. I should have realized it was self-rising flour. I should have known that from the first time I cooked with it.”
“C’mon. They’re not that different.”
“But they are. This one”—he gestured at the one from his container again—“will make a gummy, gross roux. It won’t coat a sauerkraut patty very well, and it will make a tart pastry puffy. The only reason it didn’t matter in the pastry dough is that you basically want that dough to be a little puffy anyway. But I think that’s why the dough cracked and leaked.” The self-rising flour made so much sense. It even made sense with his sauerkraut sliders. The added baking powder in a self-rising flour blend would have interacted poorly with the other ingredients, leaving a bitter, metallic taste in the whole dish. It probably was the reason the red cabbage turned blue too. “I should have known right away.”
“Don’t beat yourself up about it. There’s nothing you can do now.”
He was wrong. There was something he could do. He could apologize to Ava. He could also address another reason he had lashed out at her, a reason that wasn’t even her fault.
“I saw you and Mom holding hands. Is that you trying to be more present too?”
His dad chuckled. “I suppose. I’m learning to appreciate her all over again.”
“How can you be reigniting your relationship with her? Don’t you resent her? She cheated on you.” And then married the man she’d cheated with, who then left her.
“I choose to forgive. Sometimes I choose to forgive multiple times a day. Besides, it wasn’t just her that messed up. I was wrong too.” His dad leaned back against the counter and crossed his ankles. He stared at the ceiling. “I’m not innocent in any of that. I wasn’t there for her.”
“That’s an understatement.” Zach heard the sarcasm and dialed it back. “Sorry. I know you’re trying to change. But your being absent doesn’t excuse her cheating.”
“And her cheating doesn’t excuse the horrible way I reacted.” His dad finally met his eyes. “Remembering that I’m not perfect helps me not to expect anyone else to be either. I can forgive her because she can forgive me. And she’s teaching me that we are all forgiven because of Jesus. I don’t really understand it all yet, but I’m getting there.”
Zach swallowed. “It all seems so impossible.”
“Look around you.” His dad stood up straight. “Look at this place. Can you get a more perfect redemption picture?” His dad waved his hand in the general direction of the rest of the hotel. “I nearly burned this whole place to the ground. But your sister and her husband brought it back. They are renewing it day by day. I’m no preacher, but I think you could do worse than learning to forgive. Maybe it’s time to put the past behind you and focus on rebuilding.”
Zach reached for an answer but came up empty.
His dad clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m glad you figured out your science project. Maybe you should send your cooking partner a text letting her know that you made a volcano out of her ingredients.”
As Zach put the rest of the stuff away, he remembered something he’d stuffed down a long time ago. Advice he’d been given by some of the restaurant owners he knew before he’d opened Peach. Things like “Don’t try to go too big too fast” and “Track all of your spending,” among other nuggets of wisdom. Advice he’d ignored.
Just like the loss of the contest wasn’t solely Ava’s fault, the loss of the restaurant wasn’t either. One bad review wouldn’t have tanked the place if he’d listened to their advice. He shared the blame. In some cases, he carried it all alone.
Blaming other people for his problems wasn’t very mature. He massaged his forehead. He had a lot of apologizing to do.
His phone pinged with a text. Ollie.
Ollie
Pool and burgers at Kelley’s in twenty minutes.
He didn’t really feel up to—His phone pinged again.
